


Though All Things Foul Should Wear The Brows of Grace

by Gairid



Series: Odyssey [2]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Angst, Jealousy, M/M, New Orleans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-11-04
Updated: 2011-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gairid/pseuds/Gairid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armand pays a not-so-welcome visit to New Orleans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brian and Armand

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the earlier stories written in the Odyssey series. Anyone familiar with the story might notice some differences in this, one very large differnce, in fact. I've done it in order to adjust Odyssey canon for what I consider now to be a not well-thought-out occurence. If you know the story, you'll understand, if you don't it won't matter, I suppose.

  
**  
_"If one should be prey, how much the better  
To fall before the Lion than the Wolf."_   
**   


  
**Wm. Shakespeare  
Twelfth Night, III, 130-131**   


 

CHAPTER ONE

(Brian Callahan)

I may have been the unwitting catalyst to what happened. Or perhaps not, because what finally happened was probably inevitable anyway, something that had been building, quite literally, for centuries.

I still drive them around New Orleans when they ask me to, usually when Lestat doesn't feel like driving and they want to do something. I don't mind. Why would I? It indulges my addiction. So I drive them, and I fly them places, and I do what needs to be done to keep their daily lives, if such a word may be used, running seamlessly.

I was having a bite to eat in Angeli's on Decatur St., (which has, by the way, the best pizza in the Quarter,) sipping a beer and watching the foot traffic outside. My mind was not on what I was seeing, but rather on what I had seen the evening before. I live in what used to be the slave quarters behind their home in Rue Royale. It's literally in Louis and Lestat's back yard. Well--courtyard, actually.

The evening before, I'd been sitting on the upper porch overlooking the courtyard, listening to the water trickling in the fountain and enjoying the relative coolness of the evening. They came in through the carriageway gate, kissing and laughing, Louis unbuttoning Lestat's shirt sand backing away playfully when Lestat would try to pull him close. Easy to tell where it was leading and I could have gone inside but I didn't. I watched. I have watched them many times. Don't get the idea that it's spying. It isn't. They know perfectly well when I do this. It doesn't matter to them. All that matters to them is that they are with each other. I watched them make love in their beautiful, savage way, sitting there helplessly mesmerized, until they went inside hours later. Like one released from a spell, I went into my own bedroom and fell into an exhausted sleep When I woke up, I found I was ravenously hungry, having slept the day away and so I showered and dressed and walked over to Decatur.

To say I think of them often would be an understatement, but it's not always about them making love. It can be anything. A word spoken to me. The offhand gifts that Lestat will often have sent to me, things he's seen in catalogs or on the internet. Seeing one or both of them on the balcony when I come home at night from the bars. Sometimes I have someone with me, and sometimes not. It just so happened that on this particular evening, eating my Virtuous Angel pizza, I was thinking about them making love in the courtyard.

What happened next is hard to explain. I felt an unmanning, somehow crushing sensation and then I was aware that someone was in my head, traveling around in there and making (himself?) quite at home. Vampires can read your thoughts if they want to. The sensation was wholly different than it had been anytime Lestat has paid me a visit in this particular manner. He's never made me feel like this, never pressed so hard, looked so far.I It is sometimes disconcerting, but I have gotten used to it.

This was different. This was invasive and not a little frightening. It also pissed me off.

As quickly as it started the feeling stopped, leaving me with my head aching like a rotted tooth. I glanced around the crowded little restaurant and it was easy enough for me to pick him out, the vampire. I'd seen him once before…spoken to him, even. At first glance he looked like a kid, his long, curling hair a dark auburn color and his eyes opened innocently wide, shining with dark humor. I threw some money on the table and got up to leave, glancing back at him when I got to the door. He gave me a slow, insolent smile and wiggled his fingers in a simpering little wave.

I considered going home but then I thought, if he wanted to follow me…hell if he wanted to kill me, there was not a lot I would be able to do about it. Foolishly, I decided I would just take my chances. The headache died back bit by bit as I walked and I thought that a drink might be in order and maybe a nice, anonymous fuck, so I headed down St. Ann's to Oz.

There was a crowd, spilling out into the street and the music was the usual assaultive blast. It took me a good while to get to the bar but I finally made it, groped to within an inch of my life, but still intact. I ordered myself a shot and a beer and looked around for someone likely. The place was loaded with good-looking men, but I had a certain type. Tall and broad in the shoulders, narrow hips, long legs and a tight ass. Preferably blonde, but that wasn't really necessary…the body type was. I guess you get the picture.

It didn't take long. I did the usual eye contact thing, sent him a drink. He made his way through the raucous crowd to stand next to me. Told me his name was Thomas. We made a little desultory small talk while he finished his drink and I took him outside and up the street. It was another building on the Lioncourt list of properties and I had the key to the gate that blocked the alley.

Thomas liked to suck cock and that was good enough for me. He dropped to his knees and hurriedly sheathed me with a condom. I closed my eyes, and gripped his shoulders, lost for a while in his hot mouth and when I came, it was with the whisper of Lestat's name in my mouth; just another night at the opera. We parted company affably enough back at the bar and feeling a little more relaxed, I ordered another drink and leaned against the wall, watching everyone and ignoring the frequent come-ons.

I had a pretty good load on when I noticed the vampire again. He was dancing with Thomas. If I haven't made it clear, the vampire was Armand. He moved with that same eerie liquid grace I always saw in Louis and Lestat. He met my eyes and grinned and then said something to Thomas. To my dismay they left the bar together.

I didn't know what to do. Follow them and do what? Still, I moved toward the door and then suddenly, he was there again in my head and I could see as though through his eyes. Thomas, suddenly on his guard when he saw the flat speculative gaze of the beast before him. He turned to move away but Armand easily held him and Thomas went quiet when he looked into Armand's' eyes; he went quiet but I could feel his terror, _smell_ it even and with it I felt Armand's avid hunger for both Thomas's blood and for his abject fear. I staggered back against the wall, but no one paid any mind to one more stumbling drunken fag, not in this place and I moaned when I saw Thomas lying on the dirty pavement with this throat torn open. I tried to pull away but Armand's hold on my thoughts was strong even through what I perceived with sudden, clarity as the bloodswoon. He released me and I sank to the floor.

He was back, standing by the door, the beast, looking in at me. He wiped the blood from his lips and licked it from his fingers; his eyes were contemptuous as he approached me. I could not move and I realized that it was it was him holding me still that way. He reached down and stroked my face and I shuddered in revulsion and a sort of d.

"What's the matter, Brian?" he murmured in an intimate, insinuating voice, "I can't believe that you would balk at a little blood. I know you have seen the inestimable and oh, so attractive Vampire Lestat do such things." The touch of his mind was chilly and loathsome. The touch of his hands cool, not at all the fevered heat I always associated with Lestat's usually brief touch.

"You are part of the clean-up committee, are you not? And don't tell me you are saddened by the loss of your little conquest. You used him just as surely as I did."

He drew me effortlessly to my feet pressed himself against me, running his hands up over my ass and stretching up to place a kiss to the side of my quivering mouth.

"I know who you see when you fuck these boys, Brian." His voice was soft, his breath stirring my hair as he continued his horribly intimate stroking. "You dream that it's him, do you not? His mouth upon you? And when you let one of them take you…oh, well, there is no doubt who is on your mind. And have you confessed to Lestat? Have you? Perhaps he will someday throw you a bone, since you are such an obedient little doggy. A pretty one, too. Lestat always did love to surround himself with pretty things."

His hands left my ass and he took my face between them, jerking my head so that I was forced to look at him. He stared into my eyes and I felt the world sideslip a little. That probing again, fishing around in my brain, sifting through my memories. It was awful and I knew what he was looking for. He was taking from me things that were not his to take. I tried to stop him, but I didn't know how.

He cupped me again, squeezing and massaging. "It gets you off, thinking about them…thinking about _him_ , doesn't it? It must." he said, musingly.

To my utter dismay I felt myself getting hard under his hand.

"Yeah, well, I guess it gets you off, too." I said in a strangled, sickened voice. "That _is_ what you were looking for when you…"

My voice was cut off cleanly and I saw a flicker of surprised anger in his dark eyes, so fast I almost missed it. Almost. He bent my head to one side and licked my neck, scraping my skin raw and drawing tiny beads of blood.

"I could do it right here, Brian. You'd like it. I know it's another thing you dream about."

Crazily, all I could think of was that when I went home if I saw Lestat or Louis they would surely smell him on me.

"Of course they will. That's the point." He grinned, showing me his fangs.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" I muttered.

He squeezed me painfully and then let go, giving me a hard, little shove.

"You should be scared. Instead you emulate your arrogant lord and master. Go home to your empty bed, little doggy, before I change my mind and eat you."

He let me go and it was a supreme relief to not have him touching me, to have the coldness leave my brain. I couldn't see him. He was gone. Vanished.

When I went outside, I saw the ambulance down the street and a knot of people looking on. Nauseated and with my head feeling ready to burst like an overripe tomato, I stumbled home.

I thought I would never get there though I was only a few blocks away. I kept stopping to look around, eyes darting in all directions, trying to pierce shadows that had never bothered me before. Shuffling as though I'd consumed a great deal more alcohol than I actually had. I was certain that at any moment I would once again feel that dreadful touch in my head. When I turned the corner onto Royal I sighed audibly as though to be there might be some protection on this street. My head felt ready to split.

Finally I was a block away from their flat, from my own flat. I was hardly aware how I had gotten there. I saw Louis across the street and I raised a hand to him as I would do at any other time. He nodded once and kept going. I uttered a mad little titter, staring after him, thinking suddenly that my strange existence had turned around to bite me in the ass.


	2. Interrogation

**Chapter Two**

(Louis

 

I locked the door and turned into the street, dropping by force of long habit into the gait I used in public. Lestat finds it hamusing that I lock the door and insist that he do it too.

 _'Who would dare?'_ he asks haughtily; his eyes gleaming with dark humor.

 _'The less we have to find out.'_ I always reply.

Only half-scenting the redolent air I caught Brian's familiar aroma. I turned in the direction I knew him to be coming from and was surprised to see him lurching awkwardly up the street. Odd. Had he actually drunk too much liquor? Brian had a history of doing that, I knew. That was before Lestat had begun giving him minute amounts of his blood. Now he says that booze, as he calls it, does nothing much for him. I can well understand that. He looked toward me and that look alone alerted me that something was wrong. The length of time he looked at me…that he was able to look at me for more than a few moments.

It is a long-standing point that I like tease Lestat with, Brian's attraction to him. The poor creature can barely meet Lestat's eyes most of the time. He generally stays out of my way, usually glancing at me only long enough to gauge my distance from him. But not this time--this time he looked directly at me steadily. Something was definitely amiss. I scented the air again, concentrating.

(Brian)

I looked around again and began moving in fits and starts, holding my head in both hands as though that might keep it intact. The feeling of disorientation had grown in me rather than abated. I noticed movement when I raised my head once more and saw th Louis, still across the street. He glanced in my direction, and I met his unsettling gaze for that brief moment, half-raising my hand. He nodded and looked as though he would keep going ( _to hunt_ ) on his way. The thought made me shudder as it had never done before. I laughed jaggedly, still watching him. I had never seen Louis kill anyone. I didn't want to. I watch them, yeah; I watch them when I am near them, which is often. When I cannot look away. I don't follow them around, though, not unless I am asked to.

I have seen Lestat kill. I'm not sure why he'd done it in my presence, but he had, more than once in fact. Some kind of test? Possibly. What I do know is that the times I had seen it, it had nothing of the… of the flavor of what Armand had done to Thomas--and then there waqs the way he had forced me to watch it through his eyes. I could not equate what I had seen Lestat do to what Armand had done.

The world that I lived in demanded a good deal of rationalization on my part. There was no way I could know what sort of people Lestat killed when I was not there, of course, when he bothered to do it at all anymore. The times I had born witness he'd taken the hopeless or the vicious, and so I based my rationalization on that. Most of the blood I saw was their blood, spilled in their feverish coupling. The sight of it did not sicken or upset me; neither did the sight of the seemingly brutal savagery that I had come to understand as part and parcel of their passion, their bonding. I had forgotten that wreaked upon mortal flesh it was not so pretty.

Louis had stopped walking and turned around to look at me again, his head up. I knew what he was doing. I recognized the alert posture. Scenting.  
   


(Louis)

Dropping the guise of my mortal walk, I turned to fully face Brian. There. There it was. I can only compare it to the feeling I remembered from when I was still mortal--walking unknowingly into a cobweb. Blindly. In the dark. How at first your animal brain would have you reacting reflexively. Backing up, pulling your head away from whatever you'd walked into. Then…and some are quicker than others, your reasoning skills take over. 'Oh, it's just a cobweb.' But even when you know what it actually is, you don't want it on you. Or near you.   
Armand was like that. And like a cobweb, when you see it on others you will reach to pick at it until it's gone.

I had been standing still as these things flashed through my mind, gazing at Brian. He was sagged against a gate across the street. I didn't want to, but I scented the air again and crossed toward him, baring my teeth, bootheels clicking as I came to a stop directly in front of him.

"What a stench!" I hissed at him, then, silkily, "Where have you been this evening, Brian?"  
   
   
   


(Brian)

I flinched back from him, heart hammering. He'd never bared his teeth at me. Christ. He hardly noticed I was there most of the time. I looked into his eyes, green ice, demanding that I answer.

"He followed me. He killed Thomas and then he plucked my brain out and looked into it and put it back into my head." I laughed glassily. "You can smell him on me, can't you? I'm glad I can't." I was terrified.

He crossed his arms"You don't smell like that from being followed." e said shortly. He grabbed my neck one handed and pushed me toward the gate. "Why do you smell like him?" he roared into my face.

I moaned, closing my eyes."He came into the bar. I picked up this guy and when we came back _he_ was there. I didn't see him at first, but then later he was dancing with Thomas and they left together. He killed him. Killed Thomas. I saw it in my head…" I stopped, horrified all over again, but Louis shook me roughly, not at all interested in my state of mind.

"Go on." he commanded.

"When he came back, he had blood on his hands. In his mouth. He came toward me and put his hands on me, he put his mouth on my neck and licked me. I was bleeding…there's blood on my shirt…" I realized suddenly that I was babbling, the words coming from me in a confused torrent but for the life of me I could not seem to stop. "He was in my head. Right in my head and he could see…he could see last night when I was on the porch. It made him angry."

Louis had closed his eyes when I mentioned the blood in Armand's mouth, his face registering distaste.

"I didn't say anything. You know…you know he can do that." I went on, hastily.

" _I_ can do that. Don't make me show you, Brian. Make some sense, man!" He shoved me hard against the gate, his strength inhuman and frightening. My teeth came together and I bit the tip of my tongue hard; my mouth flooded with the taste of blood. Louis flared his nostrils and his gaze sharpened.

"He…he talked about Lestat. He knew who I was. Clean up. He called me the clean up committee." I said miserably. "He knew what I felt. What I feel…I was only eating dinner." I added inanely.

Louis ignored everything I had said to that point, zeroing in on what I'd said about Lestat.

"Lestat? He mentioned Lestat?" He shook me again, lifting me off my feet as easily as if I was a puppy. Bad doggie. I drew in a hitching breath and nodded.

He nodded in contemptuous imitation. "Tell me!" His voice hurt my ears.

"He called him The Vampire Lestat. He said a little blood shouldn't bother me and that I was an obedient dog. Lestat's dog." I dropped my eyes. "He was looking in my head for you." I whispered. "For you and Lestat but mostly for you…" I paused, startled that I knew this. "I didn't know how to stop him. He told me to go home then, before he changed his mind and ate me." I managed to look up at Louis again.

He examined my face in minute detail, as though he could discern from my features the truth of what I said. I guessed he probably could. I was unable to tear my eyes from his chilling gaze.

He put his smooth, white forehead close to the side of my face, and I felt his breath on my cheek. "What you see and what you think about is of no interest to me." he whispered. His voice was trivializing and dangerous, his gesture dismissive. "But you know who I do care about. Don't you?" He administered another rough shake.

"Yes." I answered. I was shivering helplessly.

He gave me a last hard shove against the gate and turned on his heel toward the house, barking out a command as he reached the door."Come!"

I did, following on legs that threatened collapse. My chest ached where he'd pushed me, my back felt bruised and hot. I followed though. The devil you know is better than the one you don't.

 

(Louis)

After I told him to follow, I went inside, leaving the door open but ignoring him otherwise, which was lucky for him. I threw my keys on the hall table and lobbed my jacket in the general direction of the banister before disappearing into the parlour. I sat there on the divan in the dark, listening to him in the foyer, closing and locking the door. His blood, thick with his anxiety and his heart, fluttering like a trip hammer. I could hear it. He didn't dare to turn any lights on and after a moment I could see him standing at the doorway, peering in, nervously twisting his hands.

"You can look if you want." he said, his voice very low. "I told you what happened. I'm not lying. All that is left are his words, sly words."

I stared at him blankly."Look where?" I asked him. I was weary of his oblique references.

He looked straight into my eyes and tapped his head. He stood swaying slightly in the doorway. "You said you can do it. So go on. Read my thoughts if that's what it takes. Maybe you'll…uh…see something that I didn't know to tell you." He looked at me again and this time his eyes skittered away.

I waved impatiently."You _know_ I can do it. I don't care to. Thanks for the offer." I sneered.

I got up and began pacing the room. His uncertainty was wearing on my nerves. He was never like this, I thought irritably. And the absolute reek of Armand was nauseating.

"Maybe I should just go home." he muttered. I was tapping my nails rhythmically on the windowsill, gouging the wood.

"You are home, you fool." I snapped. "Or perhaps you'd prefer to watch from the porch?"

 

(Brian)

I said nothing to that last. I knew very well it didn't matter to him but I was deeply upset by that my loyalty was in question. I felt exhausted to the point of collapse but I was afraid to touch anything, thinking I would leave the scent of Armand everywhere…for all I knew I was doing that already. Louis was muttering darkly to himself under his breath. When he passed the window the light that came in through the sheer curtains bathed his face briefly. The whites of his eyes had gone a feral red. He turned his head to fix me with his glare.

"Go bathe. I can't abide that stink any longer." His voice was guttural, a low growl escaping at the end of the sentence. I stood, open-mouthed for another long moment. He looked me up and down. "And you're waiting. Why?"

I fled.

Once in the spare bedroom, I shut the door behind me, and tried to control my panicky breathing. After several minutes I felt a little more in control and I turned on the light. The room had been redone recently in rich shades of plum and emerald. I went into the bathroom and turned the water on.There was a box of trash bags in the cabinet under the sink. I fished a few of them out and stripped off my clothes, stuffing them all into the bags, my socks and shoes included. The room was already saturated with hot moisture, but I was cold.

A cramp twisted my gut and I doubled over, vomiting helplessly into the toilet until I was empty. I felt slightly better for it and I got under the hot, needling spray. I scrubbed myself until my skin was red and my neck raw. I washed my hair several times. The water was as hot as I was able to stand it and by slow degrees the bone deep chill I felt was slowly negated.

Shutting the water off, I stepped out of the tub reaching for one of the thick, soft towels folded neatly on the wire rack. These simple actions calmed me…or so it seemed. I may have been in shock. I wrapped the towel around my hips and went into the bedroom. I had nothing to put on but that seemed to be the least of my worries.  
Seated on the edge of the bed I contemplated the closed bedroom door, imagining the darkened flat beyond and Louis, coldly furious, sitting in the shadows. Waiting for Lestat. I was so tired. I thought that if I could just lie down for a few minutes I would feel better. I lay back across the bed and pulled the coverlet over me, and slid into a troubled sleep.  
 


	3. Temper, Temper

**CHAPTER THREE**  
   
(Lestat)

I'd awoken feeling prickly and restless and a little put off that I could not seem to put my finger on why. Louis was already up and dressed. I knew he was in the library, for he'd left the door open and I could hear him the scratch of his pen and the rustling of paper.

I got up and wriggled into a pair of jeans, buttoning them up as I entered the library. Just looking at him made me feel easier. He glanced up, smiling lazily at me. I kissed him, warm and slow.

"Are you going somewhere, my love?" he asked, brushing my hair back from my eyes.

"I'm hungry." I told him.

I didn't need to explain further; he knew what I meant; I was restless and needed a little time alone.  
I was a bit far afield when I felt him. We'd found a way to link mentally, and the maker/fledgling block be damned. It was nascent still and neither of us was quite sure how it worked, exactly. One evening I heard Louis clicking his tongue against his hard palate and I became curious to see if he could do it when I kissed him. One thing lead to another, as it so often does with us and we'd had an intensely long session, sealed together, hardly moving. We had not moved on to drinking from one another yet and he began to make the clicking sound as I licked his neck and jaw. I heard and felt the sound in my own head, as though I'd made it myself.

I remember lifting my head from his neck and looking at him with round, surprised eyes. He'd looked at me curiously and I made the sound in my mouth. The look on his face pretty much mirrored my own. Of course we could not bear to separate from one another at that moment but we tried it out the next evening, first in separate rooms, and after a while we found that it worked pretty much wherever we were.   
   
   


(Louis)

I paced back and forth, running a track through the thick Aubusson carpet. Armand. That little weasel with a lump of vice where his heart might have been. It had taken a great deal more restraint than I was used to exhibiting to not wring Brian's neck. I rubbed my hand across my knitted brow, feeling what could have been the ghost of a headache.  
And Lestat, out there somewhere. His cell phone was on the desk with several others. Looking down at my shirtsleeves, I saw that I must have run my nails through the skin on the backs of my arms, that's why the blood. I tore the shirt off and threw it across the room in frustrated anger. If I left the house and Brian more harm might come to Lestat from what Armand could get from him. I cursed him, that mortal; unwitting, yes, but bringing any danger to Lestat. If I leave with him, he'll make for an easy target for mindreading.

I must _think_. I went totally still; I had the answer.

I walked to the window and laid a hand on the pane and clicked my tongue against the top of my mouth. Some kind of psychic emotional bond had developed over the years--it wasn't a voice, per se, but it was as if I were calling to him, and he would hear me, I knew this.

 

(Lestat)

I felt him, heard the little sound in my head, that cat-sound. I lowered the body of the woman I'd drained, poor ravaged thing, with the crumpled bills I'd given her still clutched in her hand.

I frowned. What had happened that he would call me thus? I felt no panic, just some urgency. Urgency on Louis' part could usually be translated as some kind of protectiveness toward me. I thought of how I'd felt when I had awakened…that sense that something was off. I didn't even take the time to hide the body, being quite some way from home. I mounted the Harley and roared off toward home.

As I rode I answered Louis, to let him know that I could hear him, that I was on my way back to him. I pulled up to the gate some twenty minutes later, opening it with a thought and leaving the bike in the carriageway. Louis came around the side of the house and I hugged him hard against me. His arms were fiercely tight.  
"What is it, _chaton_? What's happened?" I asked this as he took my arm and pulled me back toward the house.  
 

(Louis)

Ridiculous to have worried about him; he was quite able to look after himself. But then, harm may come in so many different forms and the worst pain is not always physical. I couldn't even speak these simple things to him, I just held him to me, tight, so tight that I could feel him groaning under the pressure. It was all that I could do to turn him through the courtyard and on in through the back door of our home. Inside, I turned to lock the door knowing that a simple door will do nothing to hold out what I do not want near us.

 

(Lestat)

"Louis, what is it? I said, as he released me to close and lock the door.

I didn't like the way I felt suddenly, unsettled by Louis' actions. When he was unable to speak that way, it signaled that he had been worried indeed.

"You weren't upset because I didn't tell you where I was going were you?" I thought perhaps he feared I was going to do something...something stupid. I could think of no other reason that he would be so upset.  
"No, no...I know it wasn't that." He said, running his hands through my hair. "Something has happened, though. Come upstairs."

"Is Brian here?" I asked, idly curious. His familiar scent was strong.

The flat was dark, though that matters little to us. Louis still had his arm around me, walking with his head on my shoulder, when I froze suddenly.

"That smell." I muttered. Scenting. "That SMELL." I broke free from Louis, whirling around. I was at the top of the stairs, vampire quickness taking over.

"Did he dare? Did he DARE?" Roaring.

I heard Louis speaking but I couldn't make out what he was saying over the thudding of blood in my head. I was beside myself. Enraged. The odor was faint, barely there. I flung the door to the spare room door open so hard that the hinges snapped and the door fell to the floor with a resounding bang. The room was brightly lit and sitting up in the bed naked and vulnerable, his blue eyes huge, was Brian. I could smell nothing from him but his own scent, overlaid with his fear. The smell, the _offense_ seemed to be in the bathroom and I passed by him to look. Bags on the floor, with clothes in them. I kicked one viciously and turned running into Louis.

He put his arms around me and restrained me, speaking my name until I stopped my guttural snarling. The towering rage subsided somewhat when I finally let it percolate into my enflamed mind that Armand had not actually been in the house.  
This is not to say that I was by any means calm.

"Someone had better tell me what happened." I said ominously.

I pushed Louis off and stood nose to nose with Brian, now on his feet.

"I expect those are your clothes in there, reeking of Armand." I said, my voice rising again. He blinked, but stood his ground. He opened his mouth to speak, but Louis interrupted him.

"Go and put some clothes on. You know quite well where you can find something to wear. Stay in the house." Louis snapped. He sounded past all patience. "Lestat, if you have finished?" He gestured to the door and I went with him, down the hall to the parlour.

His voice as he addressed me was tense, angry even. This was directed outward however and when we sat down on the divan, he once again pulled me close.  
   
   


(Brian)

I was roused from my fitful sleep by Lestat's inhumanly loud roaring. I sat up in the bed just as the door crashed open and fell to the floor, torn from its hinges. Lestat stormed through the room, a blond demon, eyes blazing blue fire. He crashed around the bathroom for a few minutes, cursing incoherently.Louis grabbed him and held him, just as he turned to come back into the bedroom. He held on grimly until Lestat's furious snarling and spitting subsided. I'd gotten up, balanced on the balls of my feet, ridiculously poised for flight.

"Someone had better tell me what happened." He said, breaking away from Louis. He came at me wickedly fast and stood with his face mere centimeters from mine. "I suppose those are your clothes in there, reeking of Armand." He growled.   
I blinked in the face of his anger but somehow managed not to flinch back from him. I opened my mouth to speak, but Louis interrupted me, ordering me to put some clothes on and not to leave the house. They left the room together, and I went into their room to get something to pu on.

I knew there were clothes in there that had never been worn and so I took a pair of jeans with the tags still on them and a plain black t shirt and put them on. I hesitated for a minute after getting dressed, thinking I would just wait there until I was summoned. I decided instead to go to the parlour and see if either of them wanted to ask me anything else. The least that would happen was I would be sent away and the worst they could do was kill me. Better one of them than Armand.  
   
   


(Lestat)

After he got me to settle down a bit more Louis told me what had happened, how he'd come across Brian as he'd left the house.

"I very nearly throttled him, Lestat. That smell…and his foolishness." Louis said during his narrative.   
I sat still listening, and feeling my fury go from meltdown to zero at the bone. By the time he had finished I was on my feet again, pacing around the room after flinging the French doors wide. It was quiet except for sounds from the street and Brian dressing in the other room.

"He comes to MY City and torments MY human and dares to leave his stink upon the wretch to carry to our home as a challenge?" I muttered, standing at door, nails digging into my palms. I turned to look at Louis, licking the blood absently from my hands. "I detest him. And if he thinks he can waltz into New Orleans and play these games he is mistaken, for I am weary of it."

More than weary. If he had been in my sight, indeed if I had known where he was, I would have incinerated him right then. As it was I'd made a few casts but he was obviously shielding as he always did. Sly. Hiding at Marius' with those two demented fledglings? I thought not. Marius had become strange and reclusive, holed up in Metairie with them. I rarely saw him and the other two, never. They stayed out of my way. Whatever courtesy or restraint I had shown to Marius regarding Armand in the past did not extend to those two mad ones. They wouldn't last long at any rate, I was more than certain of that.

I heard Brian in the hallway and I called him in. in. His eyes skittered to Louis and seemed relieved that he was being ignored. Smart man. I don't know if he realized how close he'd come to death earlier, for by Louis' account he'd been barely holding it together when Louis had confronted him; Louis has little patience with such things. I refrained from brushing his mind for it seemed that it had been Armands' invasion that had unraveled him. He had himself under control though and I gestured to him to sit.

"I want you to tell me exactly what happened to you tonight. You were understandably upset earlier after your ordeal and I'm afraid that Louis became a bit… excited at your incoherence. Tell me now what happened and don't leave anything out. You needn't be uncomfortable. I know you were watching us yesterday. I always know when you watch. Or when anyone else does for that matter….it's irrelevant. Begin, please."

He did. From the time he left his house to go and eat and right through what he'd been thinking when I tore the door off the guestroom. His voice was soft but with some of his normal confidence restored. He looked at me from time to time, but mainly focused his gaze on the sconces across the room. Louis listened dispassionately but closely. When he finished it was obvious that Brian was exhausted. He could barely sit upright anymore, a result of the adrenaline that had been repeatedly spilled into his bloodstream over the course of the night and his emotional upset or so I assumed.

Armand using Brian to see what he might find out from his mind did not surprise me. Humans are the unfortunate pawns of vampires in more ways than one. They are prey. Very often they are amusement. Mortals that become directly involved with one (or more) vampires will often suffer for it and my indulging Brian was probably not doing him any favors mentally or emotionally. On the other hand he had never been coerced by me or otherwise influenced, except for by his own feelings. I was genuinely fond of him; his affable nature, his steadiness and his loyalty had become important to me. He had proved himself to be eminently useful in many ways, absorbed as he was with details. He managed the more tedious parts of our existence without fuss. I'd begun giving him little amounts of my blood some time ago with the idea that it would keep him safe from just this sort of thing happening to him. I'd been thinking more along the lines of Marius' brood chancing upon him, though. As it was, I had the thought that it might have been just that that had kept Armand from killing him outright. He was looking at me, his eyes glazed with fatigue.

"Go to bed, Brian." I said, gently. "Stay in the guestroom. Don't leave the house until it's light. Go on."   
I waited until I knew that he was asleep. The dawn was near; the sky that was visible over the building across the street was pale.

I extended my hand to Louis and he rose. "Armand will be dealt with." I said under my breath, as he came into my embrace.


	4. Contemplation

**CHAPTER FOUR**  
   
(Brian)

 

When I woke I up I was oddly refreshed. I think it may possibly have been because I was still alive. I turned off the lamp by the bed and went to look out the window, moving the curtains aside. The spare room looked out to the carriageway and I could see Lestat's motorcycle there, gleaming in the shadows between the buildings. I glanced at the clock on the small marble mantelpiece. Nearly four o'clock.

I picked the door up from the floor, and leaned it against the wall, looking at the frame. The damage was not too bad, the hinges cleanly snapped from the force of Lestat's entry. I stopped, thinking about how he'd looked when he'd blown in like hell's fury, his eyes blazing and his lips lifted from his fangs. I had never seen Lestat looking so inhuman…not even the times I'd seen him feed. Shaking myself, I left the room and went to his office to call and make arrangements to have the door and the gouges on the windowsill in the parlour repaired.

Hanging up the phone, I walked through the flat to the back stairs thinking to go to my place and change from the clothes I'd slept in. I went back to the spare room and took the bags with my clothes in them. The flat was quiet, with only the small sounds of several clocks ticking and what noise filtered in from outside. No sound at all from their bedroom of course; the door firmly shut.

The flat seemed as it always had, the beautiful jewel-toned throw rugs in the hallway, their portrait on the wall...everything in place. The late afternoon sunlight gleamed mellowly on the polished wood floor, slanting in from the window in the library that faced west over the courtyard. I closed the door as I passed, cutting off the rectangle of light and throwing the hall into shadow. Their home smells of lemon oil and leather, old books, and their own inexplicably exotic scent. That scent is not so elusive to me as it once was.

I went to my little house at the back of the courtyard and started a fire in the living room fireplace. When I'd got it going to my satisfaction I burned the clothes I'd worn the night before, piece by piece and then took another long, very hot shower after which I dressed myself and rummaged in the kitchen for something to eat. Nothing appealed but then I barely felt hungry. It was getting near dusk anyway, so I went back to their place, locking the door behind me.

I waited in the front room off the foyer on the first floor, a room I was comfortable in. I'd waited in there often, listening to their voices upstairs as they got ready for this or that event. Louis' voice was nearly always quiet, but his laughter, when it filtered downstairs was eerily beautiful. Lestat, his voice distinct, and carrying, often breaking into laughter or sometimes singing little snatches of songs. The sweet French murmurings. Sometimes I would fall asleep on the comfortable couch there because they had become once again lost in one another and forgotten entirely that they had planned to leave at all.

It was funny how in all the years I had worked for them, I had never really been truly afraid of either of them. Uneasy at times, anxious at others especially bearing witness to Lestat's rapacious thirst, but never truly afraid for myself. I know how foolish that sounds, but it's the truth, I had never been afraid until the night before with Louis roaring at me, bare inches away from killing me. In my routine interactions with them...well actually most often with Lestat, I was never afraid. Once accepted, the idea of immortals, vampiric or otherwise became part of normal life. I could not imagine my life any differently anymore, as odd and disjointed as it sometimes was.

As the light faded I found myself growing anxious. Not because I feared a confrontation with Lestat but because I was worried that Armand would pull his little peeping Tom routine on me again. The way that had felt was horrible enough, but knowing that there was nothing at all I could do to prevent it should he wish to try it again...that was worse.  
 


	5. Contemplation

  
**CHAPTER FIVE  
   
(Armand)**   


I spent the day in the Windsor Court on Gravier, just one room among many others. The first thing I'd done upon awakening was to phone Marius. That had been a mistake because he immediately jumped on his high horse and began to lecture me. I'd hunted New Orleans for years while Lestat, the bloody King of all fucking vampires, slept away the decades and to listen my maker and erstwhile lover rant about me courting disaster was tiresome in the extreme. I finally rang off and took to the streets, shaking off his warnings about bringing the Wrath of Lestat down upon my head.

I thought back to the evening before when I'd had my fun with Lestat's pet human, the toothsome Brian. I’d met him once before some months back at a soiree that Marius had hosted and had been a little surprised to scent Lestat's essence lingering in him then. I could smell last night, too the barest whiff. Lestat deigning to share his blood with any one other than his precious Louis had been a bit startling. Was he thinking once again of straying? Ah, but no...I knew that was not it, especially after searching Brian's mind. A pet yes, pampered and even trusted to some degree and privy to their private lives, it seemed. He even lived in the slave quarters behind their home. Rather fitting actually, whether he knew it or not. It was inevitable that he would witness them in all manner of intimacies. How utterly tedious that he was helplessly in love with Lestat.

I toyed with the idea of jumping back into Brian's head; he was certain to be holed up in the vaunted Royal Street house, so it would be easy enough to edge my way in, knowing exactly where he was. I thought also about just wandering on over there and saving Lestat the trouble of searching for me, but I decided it would be much more interesting to wait and see what came about. I wondered what had happened when Brian gave them the news that I had come for a little visit.

I'd come to New Orleans just after the Great War ended. Just after Louis and I had parted ways for good. I'd had such hopes when he had agreed to leave Paris with me; surely with a little time he would come to love me. What I had thought was infatuation when I'd met him at the Théâtre des Vampires turned out to be just a way for him to try and connect with Lestat on some level, because I had known Lestat...known him when he was a newly orphaned fledgling, with not a clue as to how to control himself, plunging headlong into a world he knew nothing about and immediately making enemies all around. Lestat, who for a while Louis had believed he'd lost forever.

It was something I had puzzled over for a long time, Louis' attachment to Lestat. It was something way beyond the maker-fledgling bond. He'd stood by and watched as Lestat's blood ran out on their parlour floor and put the flames to Lestat himself when the first attempt to kill him failed. Lestat, who had treated him callously and coldly for years. And then, Lestat woke up in the eighties and Louis went right back to him. Then there were the two female mortals. Lestat's so-called suicide attempt that I knew had to have hurt Louis dreadfully. And let's not forget David. I could not fathom why Louis would wish to be with him...what in the world did he get out of being with him? A pretty package, to be sure, but I knew enough about Louis to know that that was the least of it for him. It made me furious--their great love. How long before Lestat grew bored and restless once again?

I was on Magazine Street and was suddenly aware that my anger must have been evident. Mortals were giving me wide berth and I realized that there was blood dripping from my hands where I'd dug my nails into them. I shoved them into the pocket of my coat and rearranged my features into what I hoped was a bland expression.

All I wanted to do was speak to Louis without the fair-haired boy running interference. I thought I could make him see that all Lestat was doing was biding time until the next big adventure. Perhaps next Lestat would replace God Almighty Himself upon His throne. I knew in my heart though, that Louis wouldn't speak to me about this or anything else. Not after what had taken place in New York some years back. You'd think that Lestat's childish and predictable jealousy alone would be enough to drive Louis from him. It was all so frustrating, trying to figure out what Louis...and apparently anyone else who came into any direct contact with him...saw in Lestat, aside from his obvious eye-appeal. Do you wonder, perhaps why these questions plague me? Let's just say I have a soft spot in me when it comes to Louis and a score or two to settle with Monsieur de Lioncourt.

  
**(Lestat)**   


I awoke to find Louis holding me very tightly. He was awake already but the grip he had on me was the same one I remembered falling asleep in. He was mumbling under his breath, words that were unintelligible but dire. I attempted to move, but he relaxed his grip not at all, at least not until he realized my discomfort.

We exchanged a fierce and rather bloody kiss and I rolled from the bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and my boots. I opened the bedroom door and looked down the hall; Brian was not in the spare room but he was still in the house. Downstairs, I thought. I walked into the closet to find a shirt that was in one piece.

Sliding the hangers past, I became angry all over again. What in the world was Armand thinking of? I turned from the wall of clothes and pulled a black t-shirt from the drawers behind me. I was well past the point of wondering what his reasons were for his constant attempts to disrupt our lives. We had made it perfectly clear that we wished to be left to ourselves, and aside from some occasional contact with Marius, it had been so. I didn't plan on spending any more time being the relief to the boredom, or whatever it was, of Armand's life. I drove my fist into the wall.

Louis was dressed when I came back out. "Where do you think he is?" I asked.

He took my hand and licked at the laceration I'd made. He did not speak until the wound healed itself.  
"I don't know where he is. I don't care where he is. I'm sure he'll show himself soon enough, so all you have to do is wait. I suggest though, that Brian leave town for a while."

"Why? I asked, looking at him. "Do you still feel murderous?" I said this only half facetiously, though I knew if he hadn't killed Brian in his rage the evening before it was unlikely that he would do so now.

"No. But his foolishness could get him killed if he runs across Armand again. I know you don't want that, it would upset you. " He said, as though he had read my last thought. Louis barely noticed Brian most of the time and tolerated him mainly for my sake. It was nothing personal, really. Even Brian understood that. I thought about it.

"It might be difficult for Armand to find him if he left, but not impossible. If he stays in the house at night he won’t run across Armand. And if that little monster pokes around in his head again, at least we’ll know about it."

Louis shrugged. He’d let me play it however I wanted to for he was not so much concerned about Brian as with how Brian being hurt or killed by Armand would affect me. He’s very single-minded, my darling Louis. I thought about it.  
I went into the hall and called to Brian to join us in the upstairs parlour. Louis walked to the spare room and turned to look at me.

"He's gotten rid of those clothes he was wearing and washed the bathroom down with some strong cleanser. To think I would actually welcome the vile smell of ammonia and false pine." Louis commented, backing away from the door. I could smell it from where I stood and Louis' nose is very sensitive. I had to agree with him. The smell, offensive as it was, effectively erased the scent of Armand from the air. Brian waited at the top of the stairs, watching Louis a bit warily.

I stepped behind him and put my hands on his shoulders. I smiled wryly at Louis as I pushed him gently into the parlour and we all sat down. Brian had no objections to staying put at night. In fact, he seemed relieved.

"Is there anything I can do? You know, if he tries to read my mind again?" This obviously made him very anxious. Louis snorted derisively, speaking for the first time since Brian came upstairs.

"There’s nothing you can do. Surely you know this? If it happens, alert one of us." He expelled an impatient little sigh, and went out to stand on the balcony.

"Not your fault. " I said. "He can do the little mind trick to vampires, too, if they aren’t on to him. You’re maybe just a little out of your league, here, Brian."

"Yeah, well, that’s pretty obvious." he said sardonically. "Anyway, thanks."

  
**(Louis)**   


I stood outside smelling rain in the damp wind and only half listening to Lestat. Lestat was angry, of that there was little doubt, but I wondered why he was angry. In some ways I knew he had a taste for his anger and more than anyone else, Armand was capable of drawing this out of him. This penchant of Armand’s worried me. I wasn’t afraid of Armand…far from it but I did worry that he would provoke Lestat into some sort of uncontrollable fury wherein he might somehow injure himself.

That was just the sort of thing Armand was good at. Devious and wily, he knows that most of his peers hold some affection for Lestat. Were Lestat to lose his famous temper and Armand defended himself, well then he could not be blamed for anything that might happen.

 

  
**(Lestat)**   


Armand had chosen to play with Brian in order to anger one of us into killing him; I was suddenly sure of it. A way to get to me. A way to goad my temper and put me off guard. And it could have worked, certainly such things had in the past. What Armand was not aware of us was how close Louis and I had become. Still possessive of him, yes and I have my moments, my flashes of jealousy but things between us are greatly changed.

I turned to look at Louis standing outside, looking down at the street. Brian discreetly left the room and moments later I heard the muttering of the television in the sitting room downstairs.

I joined Louis outside, taking his hand and interlacing his fingers with mine. I knew he was worried about me; Armand could be dangerous, I will grant that. I didn’t think he could destroy me, but there was always some possibility of it I suppose. My recklessness did not always work in my favor. I lifted his hand to my lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles. "He won’t harm me, Louis. I know what he’s trying to do."

He turned his head and looked at me, cupping my cheek with his free hand. "I won’t _let_ him harm you, my love." he answered. His voice was at once tender and dangerous.  
   
 


	6. Waiting

  
**CHAPTER SIX  
~~~~~  
(Brian)**   


Several nights went by without incident, and I went back to staying in my own place. Life went on as it always had. I took care of things in the late afternoons as usual, and kept to the house most nights. Nothing happened,and I assumed after some time had passed that Armand had left. When I grew tired of being locked in my house nights, Lestat only warned me to be on my guard and to let him know immediately if ‘anything else’ happened.  
"That is if Armand leaves you alive." Louis had added, sweeping me with his unsettling green gaze.  
I saw very little of them. This was not unusual, really…there are times when they don’t emerge from their bedroom for several nights in a row. Or when they leave the house upon awakening to wander the city. I went back to my routine, overseeing the final phase of the renovations of the place on Rue Toulouse, spending time with friends. The incident was pushed gradually to the back of my mind.

 **(Louis)**   


Armand made no further appearances and we settled back into our lives, on the surface, anyway. What had happened that night was not swept under the rug by either of us, however, only put on hold. Lestat was mulling it over. I knew it, for upon catching him unawares now and again I would find him to be utterly still, a far cry from his usual frenetic movement, a sure signal that he was examining the situation.  
This is not to say that all things came to a halt. Such a thing was not possible with Lestat and his appetites. We spent several blissful nights in a row in bed, finally emerging when Lestat deemed the ruins of the bedroom ‘too uncomfortable’. This meant only that he had finally noticed that we were sleeping the days away on the floor.  
We went to the cinema, and walked the Quarter together. Lestat found it amusing one evening for us to tag along with one of the Haunted New Orleans walking tours that were so popular with the tourists. He heckled the tour guide , who styled himself ‘Lord Chaz’, mercilessly and made several people distinctly uneasy with his own spin on some of the tales told. Lord Chaz had met Lestat before, and was disdainful of him at best. Lestat always called him ‘Charley" which never failed to raise the man’s already high blood pressure.

We spent a week in the penthouse on Julia Street while Brian saw to repairs in the bedroom and when he called to announce that the room was finished, we were happy to return. One evening, as I sat in the library reading, I heard him through the open window. He’d had Brian park a new car he’d bought on a whim in the carriageway. A Lexus one of those overly ‘intelligent’ cars that came complete with computer hook ups and a minute television. A nice shiny new toy for him to play with.

The way he was currently arguing with the car did not bode well for it, however. I opened the screen and leaned out to listen, leaning on my elbows with my hands clasped before me. It actually did sound like an argument, because this car apparently spoke to you. Lestat appeared to be trying to convince it that the rear view mirrors were not in the place he’d programmed them to be in. I could see his hand stabbing at buttons through the sloped glass of the front windshield.

"Why not just move it manually, Lestat?" I called down mildly. His golden head appeared out of the window and he craned his neck to look up at me, smiling gorgeously.

"I paid for it to do it for me, that’s why." His head disappeared and the door opened. He got out and stood glaring for a moment at the car.

"Come upstairs, my love, before you render that thing so much useless junk."

I met him at the top of the back stairs, folding him into my arms and kissing his face. We went together into the parlour and he switched on the television, settling with his head comfortably in my lap,as he watched the local news.  
The top story was yet another murder, only a few blocks from here. We were barely paying attention…that is until we heard the female anchor report that the body had been apparently drained of all blood.

I felt his fury, sudden and immediate--a foil for the cold anger I myself felt.

"Do you think it’s him? he hissed, sitting up.

"It might be. But this is not the way." I put my hand on his shoulder. " We have time. We will bide and we will watch. And if this is some rogue…"

"If it’s a _rogue_? We have had no such problem here. No one has dared. No one would dare. Oh no… it was him. "  
Lestat said this with absolute certainty. He shook my hand off of his shoulder and got up. He seemed to be everywhere in the room at once, eeling about with eerie speed. My eye was hard pressed to follow him. Finally, I reached as he passed me, grasping his arm tightly. The muscles beneath my hand jumped and twitched but he stopped. I met his eyes, dilated to black with his fury.

I felt him calm slightly under my touch, though I could practically hear the roaring in his head. I dropped my hand and he went out onto the balcony to look out over the street. His head was lifted, his back rigid as he tasted the hot breeze that caught at his hair. The temperature in the room slipped back several degrees.

I joined him."He will not be standing out here waiting for you in plain sight. Not tonight." He turned to look at me and this time his eyes were icy gray.

"You are right, of course. But this will end soon Louis." He put his hands on my shoulders pulling me close. He kissed me with a fierce passion.

"Soon." I agreed, coaxing him back into the house, my brain alight with the vision of him laughing up at me from the carriageway not a half an hour earlier.

 **(Armand)**   


I could easily imagine Lestat’s rage at my little calling card; he has ever been the drama queen. I wondered which tack he’d taken. Destruction of furniture and loud epithets? Or did he lapse into coldness? And beautiful, enigmatic Louis-- I knew very well how perfectly cold _he_ could be. Had I not tried to engage that frozen green gaze for years upon years?

Ahh. I could see them now; they were on their balcony, silhouetted by the light streaming from the open doors behind them. I stood on a rooftop a block or so a way, upwind of them. I wondered if they knew I was near; Louis had always had an amazing sense of scent even before Lestat had begun sharing his powerful blood with him.

I sat on the very edge of the roof, watching people walk below, aware of the pulsing, garish heart of this place. There would be a clash of course. After all, I had dared to challenge le Marquis de la Nouvelle-Orléans himself, had I I not? As I watched, Louis drew Lestat back inside. Drew him inside to what? Calm him? Fuck him? Protect him?

I felt a satisfying flame of anger heating my blood. Louis had said to me once long ago, that I needed him to quicken me. That was true at that time; he had awoken in me something that I’d thought long gone. I still remember how I felt when he had been my companion and there was something of that feeling twisting in my mind now, stimulated by the thought of confrontation, the idea of something-- _anything_ shaking me out of the torpor that enveloped me.  
I stood up at the edge of the roof and leapt from my perch, landing lightly upon my feet. Several girls passing at that moment, started back from me, but I smiled pleasantly at them and they walked on, giggling and whispering amongst themselves. One of them turned to look back at me, faint unease creasing her forehead as she looked from me and then up to the rooftop. One of her friends took her by the arm and pulled her impatiently along.

I still remember how I felt.


	7. Interlude and Animosity

  
**Chapter Seven**   


  


  
**(Lestat)**   


We will bide. And we will watch. Louis stood with his arms around my neck, his cheek pressed to mine. His hands ran soothingly over my back.

"I know you want to rush right out there, my love." he said, his breath warm in my ear. "Yet, I would prefer that we not let this little problem interfere with our evening."

His kisses running down my neck were distracting as hell. I leaned my head back."Not like we will run out of time." I said. His hair tickled my nose.

"Time enough to deal with him, anyway." he agreed. He grazed his fangs along the vein in my neck, his hand cupping the back of my head. He moved his thumb beneath my jaw, pushing my head back further still. He pushed his leg between mine.  
"Whatever happens, my love," he said against my flesh, "We will not soil our home and environs with any of it. " He opened his mouth and pressed his teeth against my skin, the points of his sharp fangs a breath away from penetration, sucking hard as though he’d already pierced through. He let go suddenly.

"We will not let him interfere with us any longer. And that being said, it’s time for your bath, _monsieur_ , to wash away the remnants of this anger. Save it for when it will be needed…it has no place here." He stepped back from me and unbuttoned his shirt, removing it and tossing it to the floor. "The doors are open, " he teased. "I can’t believe you still have your clothes on."

He slid out of his jeans, staring pointedly at me as he passed me to go out again to the balcony. He turned,and leaned back against the iron rail, framed by the riot of plants that grew in their various containers and hangers.  
I undressed and joined him. "The tub was not out here, last I looked, " I said, kissing his nose, "And since when have you decided to upstage me?"

For all his teasing about me standing on the balcony for the entire world to see, most people passing by would be hard pressed to see anything other then my head and shoulders; the plants obscure most of the view. The balconies to either side belong to us; we own those buildings as well, so no one sees us from there, except for Brian on occasion. Any commotion usually occurs when I stray onto one of those, because there is no strategic screening.

"The tub is filling, " Louis said lazily. He was massaging his flat stomach. A few blocks down a street musician played mellow sax. Louis was right; it would not do to engage Armand right here where we live, this place we both love. I dropped to my knees before him, wrapping my arms about his hips and laying my face against him. I took him into my hand and ran my tongue along the hard length, drinking in his delicious moan.

"You must promise not to destroy the railing, _petit._ " I said, hearing the distinct sound of stressed metal. I looked up at him, meeting his eyes.

  
**(Louis)**   


How beguiling are his eyes, how he bewitches me. The gossamer hair that framed his face was dim fire amid the shadow, I felt the fine gossamer on my hip where he rested his head. "I promise." I relaxed my grip on the railing slightly. He smiled approvingly and burrowed his face between my legs, twisting his lithe body around for better positioning.

He turned again looking up at me with a little nod and I moved, pushing myself into his waiting mouth. Engulfed suddenly with the heat of him, the wetness of him, I whimpered softly. He sucked me hard, drawing on my flesh and giving my hips play so that I could move, so that I could fuck his lush mouth. I could not take my eyes from him. The iron was giving in my grip, so I released it and put my hands on his powerful shoulders, giving myself up to the rhythm that he helped to create.

I came hard, held up only by his arms wrapped about me. Did I cry out? I didn’t know. Probably. Lestat nursed at me, drawing my blood into him until I felt weak and dizzy.

  
**(Lestat)**   


We lay together, sprawled and contented on the floor of the balcony. I was woozy from having taken his blood, my head pleasantly swimmy. I thought I heard water running, a different note than I was used to hearing; it struck me then that I usually barely noticed the sound of the fountain in our courtyard when I was in the front of the building.

The tub. I sat up, and Louis cracked an eye open, trying to pull me back down to him.

"You left the water running, _chéri_." I said, laughing. I stood and offered him my hand.  
The rug was wet, but it wasn’t too bad…the outflow drain didn’t work fast enough to stop the spillage altogether, but the tub was so large that it had taken quite a bit of time to fill to the top.

"Another rug, looks like." I said, watching him as he leaned to let some of the water out. I moved backward and sat on the counter, enjoying the feel of the cool, smooth marble against my skin. The air was misty with moisture.  
He shrugged, stretching a bit further.

"That mouth of yours gets us into trouble in so many different ways." he said with a smile.

He had one knee on the polished marble step and the other leg stretched out behind him.

"That ass of yours looks good enough to eat." I countered. A lame riposte, but the best I could do, what with him looking all sleek and, well…ready.

"You just did that, if I recall correctly." he said, turning to me. There was something fascinating in how the droplets of water trickled down his arm. "Into the tub, Lestat. The swoon still has you, I think."

He slipped into the warm water and I followed. He positioned me between his legs and we lay back together. Cloudy mirrors surrounded us and I loved the picture we made together. I loved the way he laid his cheek against the top of my head. The picture was indistinct and wavering, as though we were creatures underwater. His left hand, laid over my chest, held me back against him. I love the mirrors because they let me see us together. They let me see him from all angles.  
He ran his hands down my sides and lifted my hips.

"Mmm. It’s like that, is it?"I reached behind and took his cock, hard as stone once again and guided him into me as he pressed me back down upon him. I squeezed, clasping his cock tight inside me. I watched his face in the mirror. His hands were at my crotch, spreading my thighs apart. I hooked my ankles around his calves. Water sloshed over the side of the tub at our movements. He took my cock into his hand, and held my hip with the other.

I grabbed the sides of the tub to steady myself, and he began moving within me. The water rose and fell in waves, and we with it, half-floating, and straining for the feel of more, always more.

Louis teased my cock with a light touch, murmuring to me."Just beyond reach, that feeling? Here in the warm water. How tight you are, my love…" And on an on. The bath grew cool and we turned and changed positions, so that he could angle himself better, fuck me deeper, leaned over the side of the tub as he drove into me in long, slow strokes. He’d released me and his thrusts pushed me against the slick, smooth marble.

" I can make you come just…like…this…" he whispered. The water was pink with the blood seeping from me from the bites he’d taken. His words, salacious and demanding and the way he looked, sleek and wet. He pulled me away from the side of the tub and shifted himself so that he slid deeper still.

He was snarling , his fangs bared. I extended one leg behind me and the snarl deepened into a coughing growl. His hands were on the tub, braced so that he could move more easily. The deep thrusting had me on the very brink of orgasm and I pushed back to receive him. He dipped his head and tore open the muscle of my shoulder. The sudden pain did it, that and the way he rubbed his face in the blood before he began to lick it from me, both of us climaxing within seconds of one another. He pulled out of me, and we stumbled from the water, now cold, into the bedroom.

Under the blankets, already wet with water and blood he curled up against me and drew my wrist to his mouth, opening the vein there to suckle from me. I lay still, feeling his body warming against mine, feeling his mouth at my wrist. Drowsy with afterglow, drowsy with blood loss.

 ****

(Louis)

I felt him drifting as I suckled, the pattern of his thoughts becoming random, shifting and turning like leaves in the wind. Easy to see what was at the forefront of his mind; a vivid picture of the two of us in the bathtub, but mingled with that picture, were myriad other times. A drowsy mind chuckle as he welcomed my presence in his thoughts and I drifted along with him. I could see also, how I looked to him as I drank from him at this moment, an image that was resonant with meaning for us both.

Wandering there with him, I found it marvelous and immensely comforting that I no longer was confronted with the images of locked doors, thick walls, places he was afraid to let me into. There _are_ closed doors, of course, but I know if I knock he will allow me in. I never do. It is enough that he is no longer afraid.

There was a loud banging and wailing at one door…it rattled in its frame, and again I heard his chuckling.  
‘That’s Armand,’ He whispered, ‘But he can’t get in.’ And at that moment we each flashed a picture of the little fiend across the street watching us on the balcony with murder on his mind. Lestat thumped on that door, and the pounding went quiet.

I released his wrist, suddenly wanting his mouth. The mind-image of doors faded as he pulled me up and the kiss was long and satisfying.When we broke the kiss at last I rolled to my back and turned my head to look at him. He was gazing at me, his eyes clear and sharp.

"There’s a way to do it, Louis. There has to be, He’s come through the sun once, but there were those older than he that perished when …" He hesitated a moment, his blue eyes clouded. He closed them briefly and then looked to me again."When the Mother caused it to happen." His voice was firm again, his eyes clear.

I remembered all too well those like us but far older, as he said, bursting into sudden flame.

"I can do that." Simply stated, but there was cold steel in his tone. "You can too, you know."  
I nodded thoughtfully, for I knew that he was right. I made little use of that or most of the other things that I knew I was able to do.

"He’s very cunning, Lestat. If he has an idea of what we are going to do, he’ll go into hiding somewhere."  
And I knew that if that happened it would only put off the inevitable. Lestat now had the idea of Armand’s demise firmly implanted in his head; Armand disappearing would only put it off for a while. Lestat is much more interested in the here and now than he is in making long range plans, and so the fact that he _was_ planning spoke volumes. As far as I was concerned, Armand had existed for far too long already, and I wanted to be shut of him.

Lestat got up from the bed and began pacing the room, as he thought about it, his movements quick and lithe, the muscles in his legs shifting, contracting and lengthening as he moved. Such a vision, he is.

  
**(Armand) ******  


When I saw them come back out onto the balcony, I couldn’t seem to help myself. I went back to the rooftops and moved quickly until I was across the street from them. Both of them naked from what I could see, Louis with his arms around Lestat’s neck, The picture of bliss, and wasn’t that just so _perfect_? I thought acidly.  
I could have heard their conversation had I chosen to but I knew it would probably be Lestat’s amorous seduction, and I had no stomach for it. And there, of course, Lestat was sinking to his knees before Louis. I was suddenly certain that they knew I was watching. Lestat and his games. Lestat claiming Louis in my sight--one of his little messages. How I hated him.  
Louis had his hands curled around the iron railing and I could see him, giving over to Lestat as he had always done. There is much talk about Louis being weak, Louis being the most human of us. I tell you now that Louis has but one weakness and that is his Maker. As for the other, there is not one among our kind who is more _inhuman_ than Louis. Those who think otherwise know him not at all. There are no mortals that have his single mindedness, his tenacity or his capacity for coldness.  
I heard him now, his piercing cry as he spent himself in Lestat’s mouth and I left then, keeping to the rooftops for a little way before I dropped to the street. Perhaps Louis was right all those years ago. Perhaps I was not yet frozen through and through, because I was surely feeling something at this moment.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the formatting problem -- I have tried six ways to Sunday to try and fix it but no matter what I do, the second half just wants to center itself. I'll see if I can't fix it later on.


	8. Love or Hatred

  
**Lestat**   


We will bide and we will watch. Louis stood with his arms around my neck, his cheek pressed to mine. His hands ran soothingly over my back.

"I know you want to rush right out there, my love, my own" he said, his breath warm in my ear. "I would prefer that we not let this little problem interfere with our evening, however."

His kisses, running down my neck were distracting as hell. I leaned my head back. "Not like we will run out of time." I said. His hair tickled my nose.

"Time enough to deal with him, anyway." he agreed. He grazed his fangs along the vein in my neck, his hand cupping the back of my head. He moved his thumb beneath my jaw, pushing my head back further still. He pushed his leg between mine."Whatever happens, " he said against my flesh, "We will not soil our home and environs with any of it."

He opened his mouth and pressed his teeth against my skin, his tongue laving me, the points of his sharp fangs a breath away from penetration, sucking hard as though he’d already pierced through. He let go suddenly.

"It’s time for your bath, _Monsieur_ , to wash away the remnants of this anger. Save it for when it will be needed; it has no place here." He stepped back from me and unbuttoned his shirt, removing it and tossing it to the floor. "The doors are open, " he teased. "I can’t believe you still have your clothes on."

He slid out of his jeans, staring pointedly at me, as he passed me to go out again to the balcony. He turned,and leaned back against the iron rail, framed beautifully by the plants that grew in their various containers and hangers.  
I undressed and joined him.

"The tub was not out here, last I looked, " I said, kissing his nose, "And since when have you decided to upstage me?"

For all his teasing about me standing on the balcony for the entire world to see, most people passing by would be hard pressed to see anything other then my head and shoulders; the plants obscure most of the view. The balconies to either side belong to us; we own those buildings as well, so no one sees us from there, except for Brian on occasion. The times the police have been called are usually when I stray onto one of those, because there is no such strategic screening.

"The tub is filling, " Louis said lazily. He was massaging his flat belly. A few blocks down a street musician played mellow sax. Louis was right; it would not do to engage Armand right here where we live, this place we both love. I dropped to my knees before him, wrapping my arms about his hips and laying my face against him. I took his alabaster cock into my hand and ran my tongue under the flared head, drinking in his delicious moan.  
"You must promise not to destroy the railing, Louis." I said, as I spied his beautiful hands curling around the wrought iron.

 **  
****  
**

(Louis)

How beguiling he was, how he bewitched me. The gossamer hair that framed his face was dim fire amid the shadows; I felt the fine gossamer on my hip where he rested his head.

"I promise." I relaxed my grip on the railing slightly. He smiled approvingly and burrowed his face between my legs, twisting his lithe body around for better positioning. Mouthing my balls, holding me open with his hands, his sinuous tongue licking and probing, all the while making eager little sounds.

He turned again and opened his mouth, looking up at me with a little nod; I moved, pushing myself into his waiting mouth. Engulfed suddenly with the heat of him, the wetness of his mouth I whimpered softly. He sucked me hard, drawing on my fleshand giving my hips play so that I could move, so that I could fuck his lush mouth. I could not take my eyes from him. When I was in his throat he would begin sucking, drawing harder as I pulled back and letting up when I pushed back into him. The iron was giving in my grip, so I released it and put my hands on his powerful shoulders, giving myself up to the rhythm that he helped to create. In and out of him, moving until he suddenly grabbed my hips, stabbing into me with his fingers. He sucked hard on me as I hilted myself into his throat. He swallowed once,and then again, his fingers stroking within me, enhanced somehow by our blood or perhaps by his ongoing and ever present attentions.

I came hard, held up only by his arms wrapped about me. Did I cry out? I didn’t know. Probably. Lestat nursed at me, drawing my blood into him until I felt weak and dizzy.

  
**(Lestat)**   


We lay together, sprawled and contented on the floor of the balcony. I was woozy from having taken his blood, my head pleasantly swimmy. I thought I heard water running, a different note than I was used to hearing…it struck me then that I usually barely noticed the sound of the fountain in our courtyard when I was in the front of the building.  
The tub. I sat up, giggling and Louis cracked an eye open, trying to pull me back down to him.  
"You left the water running." I said, laughing. I stood and offered him my hand.

The rug was wet but it wasn’t too bad; the outflow drain didn’t work fast enough to stop the spillage altogether, but the tub was so large that it had taken quite a bit of time to fill to the top.

"Another rug, looks like." I said, watching him as he leaned to let some of the water out. I moved backward and sat on the counter, enjoying the feel of the cool, smooth marble against my skin. The air was misty with moisture.  
He shrugged, stretching a bit further.

"That mouth of yours gets us into trouble in so many different ways." he remarked. I heard the smile in his voice.  
He had one knee on the polished marble step and the other leg stretched out behind him.

"That ass of yours looks good enough to eat." I countered. A lame riposte but the best I could do, what with him looking all sleek and, well…ready.

"You just did that, if I recall correctly." he said, turning to me. There was something fascinating in how the droplets of water trickled down his arm.

"Into the tub, _mon lion_. The swoon still has you, I think." He slipped into the warm water and I followed. He positioned me between his legs and we lay back together. Cloudy mirrors surrounded us and I loved the picture we made together. I loved the way he laid his cheek against the top of my head. The picture was indistinct and wavering, as though we were creatures underwater. His left hand, laid over my chest, held me back against him. I love the mirrors because they let me see us together. They let me see him from all angles. He ran his hands down my sides and lifted my hips.

"Mmm. It’s like that, is it?"

I reached behind and took his cock and guided him into me as he pressed me back down upon him. I squeezed, clasping his cock tight inside me. I watched his face in the mirror. His hands were at my crotch, spreading my thighs apart. I hooked my ankles around his calves. Water sloshed over the side of the tub at our movements. He took my cock into his hand, and held my hip with the other.

I grabbed the sides of the tub to steady myself and he began moving within me. The water rose and fell in waves, and we with it, half-floating, and straining for the feel of more, always more.

Louis teased my cock with a light touch, murmuring to me."Just beyond reach, that feeling, _oui_? Here in the warm water. How tight you are, my love...” he murmured. The bath grew cool and we turned and changed positions, so that he could angle himself better, fuck me deeper, leaned over the side of the tub as he drove into me in long, slow strokes. He’d released my cock and.his thrusts pushed me against the slick, smooth marble.

"I can make you come just…like…this…" he whispered. The water was pink with the blood seeping from me from the bites he’d taken. His words, salacious and demanding, the way he looked, sleek and wet. He pulled me away from the side of the tub, and shifted himself so that he slid deeper still.

He was snarling a little, his fangs bared. I extended one leg behind me and he moaned a little. His hands were on the tub, braced so that he could move more easily. The deep thrusting had me on the very brink, the delicious, excruciating edge,and I pushed back to receive him. He dipped his head and tore open the muscle of my shoulder. The sudden pain did it; that and the way he rubbed his face in the blood before he began to lick it from me, both of us climaxing within seconds of one another. He pulled out of me and we stumbled from the water, now cold, into the bedroom.

Under the blankets, wet with water and blood he curled up against me and drew my wrist to his mouth, opening the vein there to suckle from me. I lay still, feeling his body warming against mine, feeling his mouth at my wrist. Drowsy with afterglow, drowsy with blood loss.

  
**(Louis)**   


I felt him drifting as I suckled, the pattern of his thoughts becoming random, shifting and turning like leaves in the wind. Easy to see what was at the forefront of his mind. A vivid picture of the two of us in the bathtub, but mingled with that picture, were myriad other times. A drowsy mind chuckle as he welcomed my presence in his thoughts,and I drifted along with him. I could see also, how I looked to him as I drank from him at this moment, an image that was resonant with meaning for us both.

Wandering there with him, I found it marvelous and immensely comforting that I no longer was confronted with the images of locked doors, thick walls, places he was afraid to let me into. There are closed doors, of course, but I know if I knock he will allow me in. I never do. It is enough that he is no longer afraid.  
There was a loud banging and wailing at one door…it rattled in its frame, and again I heard his chuckling.  
‘That’s Armand,’ he whispered, ‘But he can’t get in.’ And at that moment we each flashed a picture of the little fiend across the street watching us on the balcony with murder on his mind. Lestat thumped on that door, and the pounding went quiet.

I released his wrist, suddenly wanting his mouth. The mind-image of doors faded as he pulled me up and the kiss was long and satisfying.When we broke the kiss at last I rolled to my back, and turned my head to look at him. He was gazing at me, his eyes clear and sharp.

"There’s a way to do it, Louis. There has to be, He’s come through the sun once, but there were those older than he that perished when …" He hesitated a moment, his blue eyes clouded. He closed them briefly and then looked to me again. "When the Mother caused it to happen." his voice was firm again, his eyes clear. I remembered all too well those far older than we were bursting into sudden flame.

"I can do that." It was simply stated, but there was cold steel in his tone. "You can too, you know."

I nodded thoughtfully, for I knew that he was right. I made little use of that or most of the other things that I knew I was able to do. "He’s very cunning, Lestat. If he has an idea of what you're thinking, he’ll go into hiding somewhere."

The fact that Lestat was contemplating Armand's demise brough t up silmultaneous feelings of exhilaration and, surprisingly, dismay. Armand disappearing would only put it off for a while. I am aware of Lestat’s attention span; he is much more interested in the here and now than he is in making long range plans, and so the fact that he was planning spoke volumes.

“No he won't.” Lestat said. “He came here to provoke a confrontation—he's bored or desperate or both.”

“Desperate?”

“He's been like this for a long time, Louis. You should know it better than anyone—he's searching for some _reason_.”

“Reason for what?” I asked, though the answer was already clear in my mind.

“A reason to keep on going.” Lestat said. “All well and good, I suppose; he's not the first and surely not the last. The problem is that he expects it to come from without—from you, from me.” His anger seemed to drain away. "From someone outside of himself."

"You sound almost sorry for him."

"Not sorry for him. I understand it, though."

 

  
**(Armand)**   


When I saw them come back out onto the balcony, I couldn’t seem to help myself; I went back to the rooftops and moved quickly until I was across the street from them. Naked, both of them, from what I could see, Louis with his arms around Lestat’s neck, The picture of bliss and wasn’t that just so perfect—so _precious_? I thought acidly.  
I could have heard their conversation had I chosen to but I knew it would probably be Lestat’s amorous seduction and I had no stomach for it. And there, of course, Lestat was sinking to his knees before Louis. I was suddenly certain that they knew I was watching. Lestat and his games. Lestat claiming Louis in my sight...one of his little messages. How I hated him. I loved him once, didn't I? I had, when he was an audacious newly-made vampire thinking he could claim Paris and all that it ontained. It was all so tiresome.

Louis had his hands curled around the iron railing, and I could see him, giving over to Lestat as he had always done. There is much talk about Louis being weak, Louis being the most human of us. I tell you now that Louis has but one weakness and that is his Maker. As for the other, there is not one among our kind who is more inhuman than Louis. Those who think otherwise know him not at all. There are no mortals…no humans that have his single mindedness, his tenacity or his capacity for coldness.

I heard him now, his piercing cry as he spent himself in Lestat’s mouth, and I left then, keeping to the rooftops for a little way before I dropped to the street. Perhaps I was not yet frozen through and through, because I was surely feeling something at this moment.


	9. Chapter 9

**Lestat**

Several nights later Louis was reading in the library and I was prowling restlessly about the flat, unable to stay still no matter what I tried to do. After I poked my head into the library for the fifth time, Louis closed his book. He rose from the chair.

"I can see that you need to release some of this energy, _mon amour_. Come, we’ll take a walk. A change of scenery." he drew me close and kissed me warmly.

“I wouldn't dream of tearing you from your books.” I said. He rubbed his nose against mine and slipped from my arms.  
We stopped in California Drawstring to put in an order. The owner was happy to see us and said that he had several new colors in the silks that we preferred. I stood back as he showed the samples to Louis, who looked them over politely. His back was to me and I took note once again of how his jeans clung lovingly to his long legs and how they hugged his ass.

"Did you like the new colors, Lestat?" he asked me.

"Mmm. Very nice.” I said distractedly."I can’t think why we left the house tonight."  
"You were too restless by half and there is no rule that says we can make love only in our home, now is there?" He cut his eyes to mine in that sideways glance that always made my knees weak.

"And are the Rules in effect?" I asked him. His brow creased slightly and he bit his bottom lip as though in deep thought.

"One Rule." he said, finally, his mouth quirking a little. We were crossing Jackson Square, still busy with tourists and street people. Louis steered us up through narrow Pirate’s Alley and onto Orleans St.

"What’s the Rule?" I asked, my mouth close to his ear as I pushed my face into the mass of ebony.

"You will do what I tell you to do when I tell you to. Agreed?"

This sounded simple enough, but I knew that to be deceptive. This Rule was the most difficult one and it had also led us to unimagined, blissful heights--or I should say Louis has lead us there, with his inventive mind and his considerable self control. I agreed immediately.

We crossed Rampart and went into what was once known as Congo Square..it’s called Louis Armstrong park now, for one of New Orleans more famous native sons. In spite of the new name and the gaudy gated entrance, though, it’s not a place that is frequented at night except for by perhaps the shadier denizens. Such restrictions have little to do with us; we go where we please.

There was a strong odor of burnt flesh emanating from a scorched place on the ground, and we moved away from that further into the trees. There was no one moving about and we had the area to ourselves. The distraction of the horrible burnt odor was immediately forgotten when Louis drew me into his embrace, pressing the length of his body tight against mine.

 ****

(Armand)

I was surprised when I saw them leave the flat. They’d been holed up in there for several nights. I saw their human leave each night, once on a motorcycle and more often on foot. I left him alone.  
I followed them, morbidly curious as to what they would do with their evening. It was mundane. They stopped in one of the many little shops and spent a little time in there and continued their walk.

It was obvious that they were simply enjoying the evening and being together. Obvious that they were relaxed and happy. Once again I found myself furious. After all that he had done to Louis. All the pain he’d inflicted so casually, the damage he had done to their relationship time and again. I was at a loss to understand how they could possibly be so close?

I followed them, though. It seemed to have become a compulsion. I felt like there must be some chink in their self-possessed armor; they had virtually cut themselves off from the others of our kind, except for occasional contact with Marius. Lestat didn’t see Gabrielle at all anymore, I’d heard. They meandered through the Quarter, and ended up at Congo Square, moving into the shadow of the trees there.

Long ago Louis and I spent time in Greece. He'd wanted to see one of the smaller islands, a place called Lemnos, I have forgotten why now. It was a sleepy place, seemingly unchanged for a very long time. Louis had liked Greece and we stayed there for several months, walking in the hills above the town in the moonlight. It had been years since we’d left Paris and he would often sit with his back to me, allowing me to comb his hair out. I have felt nothing remotely as soft before or since.

The same beautiful hair that he shook back from his face as he stepped back from Lestat. He pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it to the ground and I stifled a soft gasp. I could see him clearly from where I stood, much better than I had when I’d watched them on the balcony. His skin was luminous. He was always beautiful, Louis, in his sadness when he’d been with me, and now in his passion for Lestat.

Lestat, who now ran his long fingers over Louis’ smooth chest, slowly and covetously. They were so lost in one another, and I could not tear my eyes from him…from them, unwillingly captivated by what I was seeing.  
I leaned back against the trunk of one of the old trees, still watching, though my mind was far away. It was Louis’ scent that seemed to open the floodgate of these memories, things I examined only occasionally. I remembered too, how I’d felt the first time I’d seen Lestat, young and brash, traveling with his fledgling, Gabrielle. Imagine! He’d brought his dying mother over. I’d been half in love with him, though it was he who had torn me away from the things that had given my life meaning and structure, at least then.

I was wrenched suddenly back to the present by the heady scent of blood drawn; not much of it, but the scent cut through the awful smell of something burned on the ground nearby. I could see Louis lapping at a wound on Lestat's shoulder and Lestat’s head thrown back in pleasure. Such shallow wounds knitted quickly and Lestat moved to pull Louis close to him…stopped by a sudden sharp word.

Louis hissed something at him, the words drowned by the wailing scream of a siren out on the street. Lestat hesitated for a moment, but then turned and simply left the park. It had happened so suddenly, I had not been able to follow it. Trouble in Paradise already? I didn’t know what Lestat had done that had angered Louis, but I did see that I at last had an opportunity to speak with Louis alone.

After Lestat left I watched Louis for a while from my place in the shadows. He watched until Lestat was out of sight and then sat down upon one of the benches, his shirt held loosely in one hand. I swore that he was looking directly at me. His green eyes glittered in the darkness.

He dropped the shirt on the bench beside him and laid his hands upon his thighs. I stood breathless…I could see the white gleam of his teeth as he opened his mouth slightly. Riveted, I watched him lick his lips with just the tip of his pink tongue. I took a step toward him caught by the luminous beauty of his naked chest and the way his shadowy hair snaked down his neck, his pale throat bared as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes.  
How could I stay away from the vision he presented? And did he know he tortured me so? He must. Surely he knew I was there.  
   


  
**(Louis)**   


_"Siete stati sempre così bei."_

I heard the soft whisper and the hair raised on the back of my neck. I didn’t change my posture, nor did I open my eyes. "Armand. Ever the voyeur." I said.

"Why always this harshness between us?"

There it was, that aggrieved tone that he had always used to great advantage. It had been a long while since I'd heard it, but it came back with immediate familiarity.

"I don’t know." I replied dryly, "I never feel this way when you are not around."

"It was not always so with you and I. I have not seen you in a long while. None if us has. You cut yourselves off from your own kind. Why? Because Lestat would keep you to himself?"

"Once again you are mistaken. I would keep Lestat to _my_ self, if you must know." Unmoving, I had finally picked up on his scent, masked by the odor of burnt flesh.

He snorted derisively, clearly unbelieving."Lestat in seclusion? That’s difficult to swallow, even coming from your mouth, Louis."

I heard anger in his voice, no different than he had been years ago. I shrugged. He could believe me or not, it made no difference to me. He tried a different tack. "Louis, you must know that this will not last. He hasn’t a faithful bone in his body, capricious creature that he is. Why do you persist in putting yourself through this?"

"And we are of interest to you….why?"

" _You_ are of interest to me, as you have always been." he said, tenderly.

"The feeling is not reciprocated. What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. I wanted to speak with you but I see that you are as stubborn as you ever were. You will put your heart into his hands, and he will once again squeeze it to bursting. If not this year, than some other year. Endless time in which he might cause you all manner of pain. Why do you trust him? Do you forget how you felt when he tried to end his life? When he threw it to that man James? I don’t understand."

His voice was pleading. That he would dare to touch upon these things that we had worked so long to mend made me sick with rage. That note of pleading. How did he dare? "You are speaking with me, Armand, and as usual you are saying nothing. What I do…what _we_ do is none of your business." I said coldly.

"As usual you are not listening. You can hear nothing, see nothing, feel nothing but Lestat, can you?" His voice was at once impassioned and despairing.

"No. I cannot." I said, putting my shirt on. “But since you are in such a conversational mood, let us speak of pain for a moment, shall we?" He raised his hand to lay it upon my arm, but I backed away from him. “You remember our time together altogether differently than I do.Here's what I remember. We used one another and each of us had his own reasons for doing so. I learned from it. I learned other things from you, too, about bearing pain as well as inflicting it. Little cherub, face of an angel! That is of course, if there are angels that look upon suffering with such detachment.” I closed my eyes against a certain recollection.

"And so you will go to him and the two of you will attempt to lock out the world. But for how long? How long before he becomes bored and restless once more. And the need comes upon him to draw some kind of new attention to himself? I’ll leave you to it, then. But you will see me again, Louis."

"You think that you know Lestat better than I do, is that it? I beg to differ. You speak of things that you know nothing about." I turned from him and began walking toward the park gates.

"Louis? I did not force you to anything, no indeed. You might wish to remember that when you are feeling so put off by the time we had together. And you might remember that Lestat kept a great deal from you then—why would he not do the same now?”

I made no answer. There was truth to what he said, but it wasn't something I cared to dwell on.


	10. Do You Love It?

I did not hurry as I walked home; there was the barest taste of Louis’ blood in my mouth, the small mouthful I had drawn from him before he sent me packing with a finely honed anticipation. The waiting sharpened the appetite and I was just as glad to leave the park; the odor had been dreadful. I noticed it again as I passed through the gates.

I crossed Rampart and moved up St. Ann’s at a leisurely pace, shouldering my way through the knot of sweating, pretty young men that crowded the intersection at Bourbon Street, spilling out of The Bourbon Pub and across to Oz. I received my share of interested glances and several invitations for sex or drugs or both, all of which I fielded with a distracted air.  
The reek was rather high tonight, I thought as I let myself into our home, locking the door behind me. I toed off my boots and moved up the stairs, shedding my clothing as I went. I wanted no such impediments in evidence when Louis came home.  
I wandered into the parlour and saw that Brian had been by with several more DVDs. He'd put them in the cabinet and left the door open so that I would notice them. I looked through them, and saw several things I thought Louis and I would enjoy together, and glancing to a higher shelf I noticed a dvd, in a blue jewel case unmarked. I smiled to myself, for I knew exactly what it was.

Picking it up, I closed the cabinet and went and slipped it into the player, and turned on the television. The images were good quality considering the lack of decent lighting. It was a DVD copied from the surveillance feed we had acquired from The Dungeon. The DVD featured Louis and sometime later, I, in some beautifully compromising positions. I hadn't watched it in quite some time, and I thought it might be just the thing to pass the time while I waited.

I fast-forwarded past the beginning, mortals milling about, drinking and smoking, until I caught the first glimpse of Louis. I stopped the tape and froze the frame, looking at him. Louis in neoprene pants that made him look as though he'd grown a sleek, dark skin, and a beautiful silk shirt, the color of dark wine. The gods wept. His hair was loose, slightly curling at the ends from the humidity as he turned and leaned against the wall, gazing disinterestedly about him, his arms folded over his chest. I found myself leaning forward slightly.

He became the object of many admiring glances and nearly as many invitations, from the look of things. There was no sound, but then, it was not really necessary; I remembered the night very well.His mouth was swollen, lip split, but healing from my earlier attentions before we'd left the house that evening. I licked my lips at the memory.

Those pants. What an age this was that you could wear something that was as tight to your flesh as though it had been painted on you. And Louis, ever attentive to me, avoided using the powder that assisted in getting into such a garment for he knew how loathsome I found the taste. I was not sure how he eeled himself into them, but I'd been the one to get him out of several other pairs of them, shredded into non-existence. He allowed that there was a rather singular and delicious pain involved in the experience that I had yet to discover.

But back to that evening. I ran my nails up the inside of my thigh, drawing a thin line of blood as I remembered that sometime after we had separated for the evening's game, he'd lined the lower lids of his eyes with black kohl and then deliberately smeared it with the back of his hand. He knew how crazy that made me. It was not that noticeable on the tape, but I remembered it quite well.

 _He leaned up against the wall, his hip cocked provocatively and at that moment he looked up into the lens of the camera and ran his tongue over the nearly healed split in his lip, and sparing a tiny, evil smile. He pushed the hair back from his face and approached a small knot of young people, several of whom had been throwing him appreciative, come-hither looks for some time._

 _He had some conversation with them, and a few of them were trying, without much success to feign disinterest. Louis went utterly still for a moment, and then he reached his arm out in a movement that the camera recorded as a blur, clasping the face of the boy nearest to him to him and kissing him harshly. Several of the other mortals jumped back in reflexive startlement but none of their eyes left the scene.._

 _As quickly as he had fastened on the boys’ mouth, Louis pushed the him away. The boy tried to keep hold of Louis' hand as it slipped away from him with no luck. The group watched him, confounded. You can see that they were wary, sensing trouble to be had, perhaps serious trouble. They were loathe to leave, however. As if a signal had been given, several of them lunged at Louis, including the one that Louis had kissed. Unperturbed, extended his hand to a another of the circle around him, a girl this time—dyed black hair, and the requisite dark colors; her face was nearly as white as Louis''.He turned his head to gaze into the lens of the camera again, and pulled the her close licking her face._

 _There was another moment of wide-eyed stillness, as they noticed the length of Louis' tongue, and then registered the fact that the side of the girl's face was bleeding. She touched the bloody, roughened skin and looked stupidly at her hand for a moment. Louis released her and she stumbled backward, watching as Louis slowly began to unbutton his beautiful, loose shirt. Without another word, the bleeding one turned and left the scene._

 _The shirt, unbuttoned all the way, showed the startlingly low cut of the pants. Louis’ flat, sheeted belly and the taut band of muscle at his hip line, gorgeously sculpted marble in the garish, uncertain light of that place. Louis looked at the faces surrounding him and it may be noted that each face registered something different; fear, wonder,lust,longing. He moved in very close to another of them, staring into the young one’s eyes._

 _It was just about this time that I made my appearance in the dark, dank club, though I was not yet visible on camera. I stayed well to the back of the group, utterly still in the shadows, watching and listening. He reached for another boy and cupped him roughly; the boy stood with his arms dangling limply, his mouth gaping. The young one was in good physical condition, rather lanky, wearing a pair of thin, shiny Lycra trousers designed to show off his attributes. He leaned toward Louis, still gasping._

 _"I'll suck you off if you want." He managed to say. Louis continued his manipulations, his eyes wide and unblinking.  
"Ah, yes. How nice." Louis said into his ear._

 _He released the young man for a moment and snaked his hand down the front of the shiny trousers. I could tell the exact moment that Louis began using his nails on the guy by the way his dark eyes suddenly squeezed shut. The others were watching, rooted to the spot and unmoving except for some furtive self-manipulation of their own._

 _"My, my." Louis said. "I cannot seem to do right by you."_

 _He pushed the boy back against the wall and forced his head up, exposing the slender neck. I leaned forward expectantly, but Louis only gazed briefly at the sight. Still working the mortal, Louis took the boys’ shaking hand and placed it upon his own neoprene-clad hip, dragging it along his waist and belly…and on down to his upper thigh. The boy had lost whatever will he’d possessed and was moving his hips in time to Louis’ stroking._

 _"Where’s the big, blonde guy who’s always with him?" Someone asked from in front of where I stood. No one answered.  
Louis had the boys’ hand in his own pants by this time, stretching the neoprene to the point of rupture. I would like to have seen Louis’ ass at that moment, especially after I’d heard the gasps of those presented with that particular view. The boys’ hand…indeed much of his arm was in there, and coupled with his awed expression came his thought, loud as a firebell, that he’d made this man so fucking hard. Louis’ distant expression and the little sneer on his lips as he, too, caught the thought. _

_"You’re not cut, are you?" the mortal muttered._

 _"No." Louis answered . "Do you like it?"_

 _He caressed Louis worshipfully, twisting his other hand into the back of Louis’ tight pants._

 _"Do you love it?" Louis’ dangerous whisper. “Do you?”_

 _I heard the mortal moan softly as his fingers made contact with the smooth skin of Louis’ ass. I could no longer remain still and I moved from the wall, making myself known._

At that point I heard Louis downstairs, and I switched it off.

I went into the hallway to the stairs, inhaling his intoxicating scent. I heard him go into the front room as I descended the stairs and I smiled to myself. He was standing at the window, looking out through the curtains, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. I sidled up behind him as close as I possibly could without actually touching him, breathing him in.

"You were gone a long time, love. I missed you." I said, my mouth close to his ear. He didn’t answer me. Didn’t move.

There was a faltering knock at the door, which seemed to jolt him from his thoughts, and he looked questioningly at me, making no move to answer the door.

I reached with my mind to see who it was, and shrugging, I looked at Louis.

"Brian." I said. We had not seen much of him lately. Louis, so still that he seemed a part of the shadows in the room, spoke tersely. "What does he want?"

I swung the door open, ready to just tell him that now was not a good time. When I got a look at him, though, I changed my mind. He stood, swaying slightly, his eyes unfocused. He did not seem to register my presence or the fact that I was stark naked. He didn’t say anything. I drew him into the foyer and closed the door behind him.

"I don’t know…" I said impatiently, looking at Brian. He seemed intact from the outside anyway.

"What do you want?" Louis said directly to Brian.

Brian opened his mouth to speak, and then snapped it shut again. His eyes had a wide, pleading look to them that I didn’t much like. I pulled him to the couch, and he collapsed down upon it, his eyes closing as he pulled his knees up to his chest. His eyes were open, but unseeing.

"Armand was in the park, Lestat. After you left, he spoke to me." Louis said.

I was still looking at Brian, as he told this to me."Did he? Did he now…" I said in a conversational tone. "I’m getting dressed. And then I am going out to find that little worm and I’m going to spit him and roast him alive." I remarked.

"I’ll turn _you_ on a spit. No. " Louis said, fiercely.

I turned to look at him. surprised at his vehemence.

"What do you mean 'no'? I’m sick to death of this and I intend to take care of it."

"That phrase means precious little now, Lestat." He said dryly." ‘No’ means don’t go."

I gazed at him, exasperated, swallowing my anger as best I could. I gestured to Brian, a fetal ball by this time. "Look at this. What’s he done to him? It’s a taunt. I won’t tolerate it." I snapped.

Louis looked vaguely at Brian,and then stepped toward me, taking my hand.

"We’re going to be indisposed. Stay in the house." He said to the mortal. Brian’s gaze shifted finally to him and he nodded once before squeezing his eyes shut.

I looked closely at Louis."Indisposed?" I asked. He began leading me from the room. I spared a final glance for Brian, now seemingly asleep. We started up the stairs.

"Where is all your desire now, my love?" he whispered evilly into my ear, leading me into our bedroom.

"I don’t suppose, " I murmured, lost in the depths of his eyes, "…that disposing of Armand should be my first priority."

I raised his hand to my lips and drew his long fingers into my mouth, sucking on them.

"But should it be?" He asked, his eyes on my mouth. I withdrew his fingers very slowly.

"You’re talking in riddles, _petit_." I said, rubbing his slick fingers down my throat.

"And you are evading my question again." he said, tracing the artery.

"Should that be my priority? You are my priority. And the Rule is to do as you say…when you say." He was so beautiful, so perfect.

"But I will always be here, Perhaps he should not…?"

That sharp nail, roving up and down the artery. "No. He should not."

I stepped back to look at him.

"What is this?" I said quizzically, "Just moments ago you would not have me set a foot out the door to go after him."

He took advantage of the small distance between us to drop to his knees and take me into his mouth. I moaned suddenly, and gripped his shoulders. He pulled back from me long enough to whisper to me. "How badly do you want him gone, Lestat?"

I looked down at him, dizzy. “I want him gone. Dead." My teeth were clenched,and I felt his nails playing up and down my ass.

"You would have to be very strong."

I shivered. "I _am_ very strong. And I will…" I paused to make an inarticulate sound as he began kneading my ass.

"How strong _are_ you, my love?"

His fingers were moving rhythmically on me."I think you know that, for are you not……mmmmm….are you not now as strong as I? My own?"

His fingers separated me and began teasing me. He rubbed his face against my hip."You will have to be strong of will and body to do this, angel." he said softly. He slid a long finger inside me. Rough. "Are you strong enough?" He pushed another finger into me. "Do you have the will to do it?"

I groaned, lost in sensation…and riveted by what he was saying. I pushed back on his fingers, and he took me into his mouth, suckling voraciously."It would take more than his demise to damage…" I grunted as he sucked hard at me, feeling the points of his fangs, the edges of his incisors scraping me raw. "…my will."

I held myself still and sank my nails into the flesh of his shoulders. He brought me to the absolute edge of control…and then he stopped. He looked up at me from beneath his raven hair, his spring-leaf eyes glittering. I was breathing rapidly…a thin line of silver spit runnered from my mouth. I released one of his shoulders and licked his blood from my fingers, shuddering.

"Then. Do. It." he said.

"Now?" I whispered, my eyes locked to his.

He licked his lips. "Now."

I swayed where I stood, my heart still thudding rapidly. I backed up suddenly and picked up a pair of jeans puddled on the floor, and slid into them, my eyes still locked to his, where he knelt on the floor. He watched me, unblinking.  
I pulled on my boots, and then extended my hand to him, raising him up, and taking his mouth in a brutal, bloody kiss. He pulled back from me after a while, breathless.

"Come back when it’s done. We'll celebrate." Louis’ voice was husky.

"Oh, we’ll celebrate." I whispered. I brushed his lips once more with mine, and left the bedroom. He called after me and I could hear his steps. I turned.

"Lestat, do wear a shirt. I don’t want him to enjoy his last vision." He tossed a shirt to me, and I caught it and pulled it on as I moved down the stairs. Louis’ shirt, I thought, scenting him on it. At least he’d worn it last, anyway.

I stopped to check on Brian. He remained curled up, deeply asleep. He’d be all right where he was. I’d see to him after it was over with, though I had an idea he’s be fine after I finished with Armand. I left the flat, and locked the door behind me.

My city. Mine. That’s what I was thinking as I moved along the street. He can’t hide from. No. Not in this place. What had he said to Louis in the park? I lifted my head, casting about with my senses alert and focused on my quarry. But…he was not far off. I could hear him, if I thought about it hard enough. The thud of his heart. That preternatural beat. A third one in this place where only two belong.

How long has he waited? Waited for Louis to come to his senses, I am sure he would put it, and go to him. I barked a laugh, feeling my lips lift in something that was half snarl, half smile. He wanted to die. He’d tried the sun. But he had not yet tried me.

I crossed Canal and kept moving, using instinct alone, in a way that I had not bothered with in a long time. Hadn’t had to. I didn’t kid myself that this was going to be easy. I’m strong. No doubt of that. So too is my enemy and I knew I was dealing with a devious and wily creature, one with a keenly honed sense of vengeance.

He was nearby, one of these warehouses. Probably one of mine. Did he know I was coming for him? He might. If he did, he would be expecting a confrontation, of course. I did not intend to underestimate him but I had every reason to believe that he had grossly underestimated me.

I caught his scent, and reasoned that he would notice mine. He was waiting for me; I was suddenly and eerily sure of this although I could not read him at all.

I passed a row of corrugated metal garage doors and slipped silently between two of the large buildings. About halfway down the side of the warehouse was a steel door, illuminated by a cone of light thrown from the bulb enclosed in heavy wire above it. The door below seemed to shiver for a moment, and then it swung open on oiled hinges.

"A visit from the landlord. Won’t you come in?" He was silhouetted in the doorway, harsh fluorescent lighting framing his small form. I could see the gleam of his eyes, his white teeth. I moved to the lighted area and looked at him, keeping my features bland. He seemed to be studying me with curious interest, standing quite still for several moments, before moving aside and gesturing me in.

"I thought you might be paying a call." he said smoothly, "Though I am surprised you found me so quickly. You don’t mind that I’m borrowing your building, do you?"  
I shrugged, looking about. He’d taken up a corner of the huge, empty room with a few chairs, a small stack of books and an unwieldy coffin. It almost made me laugh, that thing.

"Why are you here?" I said, turning to face him.

"The hotel—ah. Entirely too much activity." he waved his hand in a dismissive way. "I thought perhaps a more private place for us to speak, Lestat, for I knew my stroll through the park this evening would encourage your curiosity."  
"I am curious about one thing." I said, smiling at him. I raked a hand through my hair.

"Oh? And what would that be?" he asked, his voice low.

He took a step toward me, imbuing the movement with a carnality I knew he didn’t actually feel. He was very good at this sort of thing, Armand. Stock in trade you might say. There was a time that I’d been fooled by it, thinking that there was something behind his considerable mental talents. There isn’t. He uses the power of his mind to make others think that there is a shred or two of emotion left in him, that such things have not been burned entirely from him. Generally he tries to make himself seem a sorrowfully wise and sympathetic creature. I had no need of sympathy from him or from anyone else, so he turned toward the thing I expect he thought could use on me. Or against me, perhaps? He took another step toward me, and laid his hand on my upper arm, squeezing gently.

"Living marble." he said softly. "Is this how Louis feels now? His skin so hard?" He caressed the skin of my arm, bare beneath the short sleeves of the shirt Louis had thrown to me upon leaving. His own skin was flushed with heat and I could smell in him the blood of a recent kill.

"When I asked you why you were here, I didn’t mean the warehouse." I stated.

He dropped his hand away, allowing regret to paint his features. He was so facile with his manipulations that I was faintly astonished. And people call me monstrous.

"I don’t suppose you would believe I was visiting New Orleans to pass some time with Marius?" He said. A smiled danced on his lips, all guileless boy.

I grinned back. I was picturing his heart, expanding and contracting in his small chest. I could hear it quite well, standing as close to him as I was. Red, pulsing little muscle. I was wondering whether I should set it aflame…like the Sacred Bleeding Heart of Our Lord? Or just simply burst it apart before I tore his head from his shoulders? Sometimes these little dilemmas can be very tiresome.

"No, I don’t think you came here to see your mad, old sire." I said, laughing along with him. "But once again, Armand…you have misunderstood my question."

"Is it so strange that I would come to this place? I once hunted here. It was my home for a while. My maker dwells here. Why this part of the world is practically crawling with the Undead. You and the delectable Louis. And let us not forget my dark siblings, hmm? I felt a need for contact with my own kind."

"Apparently you felt the need for contact with Louis. Has he not made it clear enough that this is not what he would wish? Contact with Brian so that you could have a little look-see into our private lives? Why did you not just ring our front bell? You know well enough where we live."

He chuckled. "An amusing fellow, your little mortal. Easy on the eyes, too. I had a little dig in his grey matter earlier this evening. I do hope I haven’t done any permanent damage! He seems quite the competent little slave. And so devoted to you, Lestat, though I noted that Louis put the fear of god into him the other evening." He laughed lightly, and came nearer to me.

"Do you know the real reason I came here, Lestat?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know. On yet another quest to oust Louis from my bed? It's become a common theme." I said.

"I believe that when he sees the light, he'll oust himself from your bed." The lightness had left his voice and his eyes were mocking. "Perhaps even populate it with someone better than you at being faithful. I'm sure there'd be plenty interested in that."

"There are many that are interested, to be sure. You would seem to head that list, yes?"

"I don't deny interest in Louis. Few would." he licked his lips.

"And of course, there is the matter of what Louis is interested in. I wonder what light it is that you think he might see? The Light of Reason? The Light of Heaven?"

"The Light of Recognition, my friend."

"Recognition. I suppose you think he will recognize that you will be the one to fulfill him? You have no idea of what has passed between us."

Of course he didn't How could he know?.

"Perhaps the recognition that you are not to be trusted in a long-term relationship. And I don't have to know what has passed between you, I have only but to wait."

His complacency was infuriating.

"Is that what you think? That you have the time to wait for Louis to come around....to recognize it's you he wants?" I sneered.

"I don't deign to think that he would want me back. Just that it is you who he does not want will be sufficient." He peered inquisitively up at me. "Because it's the one thing you fear, isn't it?"

I had to hand it to the little monster. He always did know exactly where to strike. And it was not so long ago at all that he would have been entirely on the mark, much as I hate to admit it.

"It would seem you have already drawn your own conclusions about it. After all, you know me so well.”

"Everyone knows that about you. It is in your eyes, Lestat. One needn't even be a vampire to know."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself? You talk and you talk, but what are you really saying? That your dearest wish is to wait and see Louis walk away from me? That’s trite, even for you. I cannot deny that I have been far from the lover that Louis deserves. I may never be what he deserves, but I am what he wants. Things change for some of us, Armand, and it really doesn't matter what you think about any of it."

"I am saying only that it will happen, Lestat." He said, looking straight into my eyes. "And that I will bear witness to it. Kill me and you'll never have to hear 'I told you so'"

"Do you really think that I care at all what you would have to say to me? Whatever may or may not happen in the future? I don't. What you think means nothing to me What you want means nothing to me. And as for killing you, Armand, when that happens it will not be because I fear the dreaded words "I told you so."

"Evading the issue, once again, but I would expect nothing else. You know I am right, Lestat. Time will tell in this instance." He turned his back on me and began walking toward the door.

"You aren't leaving are you?" I moved with vampire quickness, and blocked his path, slamming the back of my arm across his chest and sending him flying backwards. He was relatively unharmed, though I had heard the snapping of bone. I'd done an oddly mortal thing…pulled the punch as it is sometimes said. He was on his feet immediately, eyeing me with contempt.

"Do we come to blows over your precious Louis?" he spat. "How utterly predictable."

I smiled gently. "I am not usually accused of predictability." I shrugged. "But you can call it whatever you wish."

I had him. He was staring into my eyes.In my mind's eye I could see his heart. I know quite well what the heart looks like, the feel of one beating in my hand. In my early days as the legendary Vampire Lestat I was not above such excess in my kills. With a little concentration I gathered heat, and focused upon it, rather like a growing sphere of brightness in my head. A small sun.

I knew that this was how she had done it, Akasha. Bent on having her way, killing her far-flung offspring almost indiscriminately, they'd burst into flame, the volatile blood catching and burning easily once the heart was engulfed. I didn't love how I felt. I am not wholly comfortable with many of the things I am able to do, though The Vampire Lestat would have everyone think otherwise. As much as I I sometimes detested him…that part of myself that I had for so long presented to the world…he had his uses.

This was one of them.

The temperature in the room had gone up considerably. There was fear in his eyes, as the realization of what was happening was made clear, Not as much as you might imagine, though. Armand was afraid of many things, as perhaps all of us are. Dying was not that high upon his list. I suspect that that is true of most of our kind, but it occurred to me that this was not the time to contemplate such things.

There was also contempt, a good deal of it, coupled with a sly look that told me he thought he might be able too do a good bit of damage before I accomplished my goal.

I could be fairly certain that there would be a furor over the death of Armand despite Louis' assertion that no one would seriously protest his demise. My only regret about the whole thing was that I would most certainly make an enemy of Marius.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" he sneered. He stepped close to me, lips lifted in a snarl. "Kill me. Do you think I care? It's what I want, you vain, foolish, posturing creature. The things I have said to you tonight will come to pass whether I am here or not."

Armand’s eyes widened. His mouth opened in a sudden, silent rictus of anguish, and he was engulfed in blue, intense flame. He was there one moment and the next---gone. In my mind, and most probably the minds of the rest of our kind came a wailing cry, loud at first and then fading to nothing

I walked from the building, and closed the door behind me, leaning against the wall and breathing in great gulps of air.

I howled my answer to him, inarticulate and inhumanly loud, shattering glass all around where I stood. Car alarms jangled and blared. I could hear the sounds of running feet. Security guards, no doubt. They would have no way of knowing where the sound had come from…I was blocks away before they had even reached the building where I had been.

I should have felt satisfaction—instead, I was filled with sudden doubt. Had he been consumed so quickly? Was it possible? These doubts began to fade and I was taken with a burning thirst so strong that I satisfied it with no less than three victims. I made my way woozily back to the Quarter and sat for a long time on one of the benches beside the piked fence that surrounded Jackson Square, listening to the warm wind rattle the banana leaves.


End file.
